Holding On
by LiveLaughLove728
Summary: "He was holding on for her, for just a little longer, just one more minute. For her. He didn't know why. It just seemed right. Like, if he was going to die, and there was no doubt that he was, the least he could do was go out loving her as much as he possibly could." Augustus' thoughts near the end.


**Hey guys! LiveLaughLove728 here with another story!**

**So I've been trying to expand out a bit and write for more than PJO, and tonight, this sad little thing popped into my head and I thought I'd give it a shot. I haven't decided whether I like it or not, but it's a good try I guess for my first attempt at a TFIOS fic. Hopefully you like it. :)**

**Warning: You may need tissues.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Augustus knew his time was almost here. He didn't know how he knew exactly. He just did. Somewhere, something inside him just knew. It lingered over the room like a cloud. He could feel it. His time was running out.<p>

It had been running out for a while. Each passing day for the last few weeks, each with a new terrible symptom, had driven that point further and further home.

He was going to die.

He knew he was. He'd accepted it. He'd done all he could to prepare. Still, he wasn't ready. He wasn't happy about it. But there was nothing anyone could do.

He felt like he'd been fighting forever; fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to stay alert, fighting to live. But it didn't seem to be doing much. His heart was beating too fast-he could tell from the loud, relentless beeping coming from the monitor to his left, every numbered beat of his heart, pumping way too fast and still doing too little. His eyes were closing, seemingly against his will, the world of bright white hospital lights and familiar faces blurring in and out of focus until he just gave up trying to keep them open. It was easier sometimes. To just give in. And he was, slowly. He was giving in, here and there, a little at a time. Because he was just so tired. He didn't want to do this anymore.

He could hear his parents and sisters talking in turn, telling him the same things they'd been telling him for weeks now; they loved him, they would miss him, he was the best son/brother they could ask for, it was alright to let go. But every day, they sounded more urgent, like they were waiting for an unspeakable tragedy to occur and they needed to be heard out before it did. Which, of course, it was and they did. He eventually let them, too, fade into the background.

He was struggling to breathe, every breath growing harder and harder to take. The oxygen mask he knew he wore did nothing to help. His lungs burned and his head pounded. Everything hurt. And he knew that this was what _she _must have felt, and continued to feel like, every day for the last three years.

Hazel Grace.

He hadn't stopped thinking about her since the day he'd met her, and even now, knowing his life was quickly nearing its end, he could bring himself to think of nothing else but her. Her eyes. Her smile. The adorable way her nose scrunched around the cannula when she laughed. How he loved her so incredibly much, it surprised even him sometimes.

And it was such a shame that this was how it was going to end; their story, just like that, would end the second his heart stopped beating. It would live on only as a memory from that moment on. And that was the greatest tragedy Augustus could imagine.

He'd thought, on more than one occasion, had the two of them not been sick, what life would have been like. Of course, he knew, if neither of them had ever gotten cancer, that neither of them would have been at that pitiful support group that fateful night in the first place; the night when their worlds had changed so completely. Still, he'd like to think he would have found her somehow anyway, that Fate would have brought them together some other way, and they would have lived out the rest of their long, healthy lives together.

But, thanks to the crappy reality of their situations, that was not the case. He still thought about it though, even now, if for no other reason than that it distracted him from the pain.

Hazel had been the one who had convinced him (rather forcefully, actually) that dying young and unknown to the world was not the worst way to go, as he'd always imagined it, and pretty much any other unspectacular death, to be. She'd taught him that the whole world didn't need to know his name. That she did, and that that was enough. And it was. It was enough.

She was the reason he was still holding on, though it seemed, only by a thread at this point. He could feel himself fading fast, but he still held on. He wished he could see her one last time. He knew he wouldn't, he _couldn't._ He knew he wouldn't last that long. But he was a fighter, and, for whatever reason, he was still clinging to the last shred of life he could: his love for her. He was holding on for her, for just a little longer, just one more minute. For her. He didn't know why. It just seemed right. Like, if he was going to die, and there was no doubt that he was, the least he could do was go out loving her as much as he possibly could.

Because if anyone deserved that, it was Hazel.

Augustus wasn't sure how long it was that he stayed like that, fighting for breath, for each heart beat, his mind lost in the fog of medication and Hazel Grace, but it was almost a happy place, the happiest it would get, and he was content to stay there for as long as he had left.

_Okay, Hazel Grace._

And he did.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully you liked it! <strong>

**Please let me know your thoughts. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.**


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